Most who hear the whispers try to ignore them; it's just plain safer not to know.

Most who hear the word 'Jedi' feel their faces twist into habitual frowns as they try to steer the conversation back to safer ground, to topics that won't lead to the soldiers in white knocking on their doors. Most don't want to hear about the individual that some have spotted here and there about town; the lanky tan Trandoshan in a long green coat. They don't want to know that the robes he wears underneath are of a very distinctive cut, and they certainly don't want to know about the pair of weapons he allegedly has clipped to his belt. It's just plain safer to pretend not to have noticed.

But there will always be some whose curiosity gets the better of them.

Some, perhaps, are beings who want to hunt him down. Perhaps because they regularly peruse the list of individuals with fat Imperial bounties on their heads- though they might be wise to consider just exactly why the bounty on this particular Trandoshan is so large. And there's something funny about the records anyway... the older listings clearly state his hide to be green and yellow, yet the more recent bounty postings have by all accounts the same individual, one Tusserk Antilles, in shades of brown. There are likely also those who want to hunt him down because they strive to uphold the law, and their superiors have pointed out Mr Antilles, amongst others who collectively refer to themselves as 'Omega Squad', as exceptionally dangerous criminals.

But there will be those who have heard other rumours along the galactic grapevines. Those who have been burned by Imperial law; those who are nursing suspicions that they- and countless other species throughout the galaxy- are starting to lose their rights. Those who were born sensitive to the Force, and have been made to hide it all their lives, barely aware of their potential, living in constant fear of discovery and subsequent 'removal' from society. Those whose parents dare to tell them hushed stories of the Jedi as they remember them; as brilliant and benevolent defenders of peace and justice. These beings may have heard whispers about a group of Stormtroopers who could no longer tolerate the things they were being asked to do in the name of the Empire, and deserted. They may have heard... but aren't quite sure they should let themselves believe... that this group are able to draw on the Force, and wield it without fear or shame. Some might connect these stories with the tall, skinny Trandoshan that's been spotted around town. Some say he travels with a brawny wookiee and a varactyl; others claim to have heard he travels in the company of a monster. Some dare to suggest the word 'Jedi', others may have heard of him being referred to as 'the Exile', but nobody seems entirely clear on what that means.

And some will have heard that he wants to be found. That he wants to be sought out... that he wants to help and he wants to teach.

---

Tusserk didn't mind this town, as far as Corellian towns went. It wasn't so big as to warrant a large presence of officials... but neither was it so small that he couldn't slip through unnoticed, should he choose. Just the right size, in fact, for him to be able to decide exactly what sort of a presence he wanted to make. He was starting to grow rather fond of this cantina, too; a clean, modest establishment called 'The Thirsty Nerf' run by a portly, middle aged man whose quick wit and playful manner lent him a certain sort of charm. Tusserk didn't doubt that the fellow had noticed his lightsabers, and though he wasn't so naive as to believe that the barman would never sell him out for a fistful of credits, he was nonetheless glad that for the time being, at least, he had chosen to turn a blind eye to them.

"The usual," Tusserk requested, sidling up to the bar but opting not to take a seat. A thin smile spread along his snout. "And make the caf extra strong, tonight."

"Double shot of our finest whiskey in extra strong dark caf, coming right up!" The bartender flashed Tusserk a grin. "The extra strength is on the house."

Tusserk proffered the appropriate cred, and then allowed himself to visually relax a little, leaning casually against the cantina wall and casting his gaze toward the celing as he felt through the varied presences of those Thirsty Nerf patrons already well settled into their nightly regimes. For all his outward appearance might suggest, he was acutely aware of his surroundings, of every beating heart that shuffled in and out of the swinging cantina doors. Tusserk was exceptionally careful about the way he presented himself; his long coat left open at the front, showing just enough of the pale green robes beneath to stir questions in the back of curious onlookers' minds, the hilts of his sabers just occasionally made visible enough for cluey individuals to identify. His clothing was loose enough to disguise his slender frame, and he rarely drew himself to his full height, aware that he was taller than the average Trandoshan... yet he opted to keep his hood down, making his clean, youthful features plain enough for all to see.

And so Tusserk did as he had every night since arriving on Corellia; he sipped his whiskey caf, watching, listening and feeling the lives of the working class locals, and he allowed himself to be seen.

The lowered murmurings and rowdy guffaws of the cantina were suddenly interrupted by the sound of a young girl bursting through the front door. She stopped at the entrance, the cantina's double doors held open an inch just wide enough for her to peer through. Outside she could see the white silhouettes of several stormtroopers approaching. In a rush she spun from the door and headed deeper into the cantina, but not even three feet away from the entrance she was stopped by the bar's owner.

"Hey there, missy, you can't be in here."

"What?" She said, freezing in her tracks to look at him.

The barman's eyes widened in recognition. "You're--," he started to say but the young girl cut him off.

"Yeah yeah, I'm my father's daughter," she said with a wave of her hand then she looked at him more seriously. "Look, I need a place to hide and fast."

The barman stared at her, his eyes taking in the panic that was clearly visible on his face. Finally he nodded and motioned her to the back. "Thank you," Isis Sinclair said, flashing him a warm smile. Then she hurried into the back room just before the doors of the cantina were flung open again and four stormtroopers stepped through. They stood in the doorway scanning the crowd for a moment then slowly began to fan out, checking each of the cantina's patrons while the squad leader questioned the barman.

"We're looking for a girl," the trooper said through his filtered speakers.

The barman shook his head. "Haven't seen any girls around here," he lied but his eyes told a different story. He had offered to hide the young girl from whatever it was she was running from but he wasn't looking for trouble from the Empire, with a nod of his head he motioned the trooper towards the back and he in turn waved to his subordinates. They raised their rifles, weapons set to stun, and quietly approached the door leading into the back room and to the trapped girl...

The girl was of immediate interest to Tusserk, and not just because of her hurried entrance to the cantina. He was careful as ever in his observation of her, allowing himself a single glance during her exchange with the barman and then relying on his 'ears' and the Force to provide him with more information. There was something to her... a brightness to her presence that struck a powerfully familiar and wholly unexpected chord with the young Jedi, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to ignore it.

The arrival of the Stormtroopers was not so much a cause for concern as a frustrating inconvenience. Tusserk did not want them to take the girl; that much he knew with absolute clarity. He just hoped he could see her get away safely with minimal attention drawn to himself... it would have always been a matter of time before Imperials were clued in to his movements on Corellia, sure, only a matter of time before circumstances would force him to move on again, but need it be so soon?

He knew he didn't have a lot of time to work with. Shifting away from the wall and placing his half finished mug back on the bar, he set his focus on the blaster held by the nearest Trooper as they worked their way through the cantina's patrons. He felt the energy, tightly wound in its battery pack, he concentrated on it hard and for a heartbeat was more aware of that pent up potential than any of the life forces in the room. With a twitch of his fingers, he drew the energy from the weapon and released it as nothing more than a gentle wave of heat, leaving the blaster drained and useless. That's one, Tusserk thought, as he himself slipped discreetly closer toward the back room, following suit as the Troopers all turned that way with hallmark efficiency. Draining weapons was a handy trick that he was always glad to have taken the time to perfect, but not for the first time he wished it could be done faster. I'll never get all the others before they get to the door...

"Does that room have another way out?" Tusserk murmured, pausing briefly as he passed the barman but not averting his gaze from the movement of the soldiers in white.

The barman took a moment to respond, and when he spoke it was with a tremor of guilt. "...No."

Tusserk didn't waste any more time on him. He raised the hood of his coat as he pressed through the bar, fixing his attention on the back room door itself. To fling it open with his mind would have been no problem, but what he hoped to achieve was the opposite; to hold the door in place with the Force, and physically prevent the Stormtroopers from getting through. Yet even as he began to concentrate, he decided to try another shot in the dark for the girl's benefit. Telepathy was not one of Tusserk's strong points; it was a skill he practised rarely, even before he'd been-- No. Tusserk put a halt to his wandering mind. Thinking back to those days would be of no help here and now. Focus.

But focus was difficult with his mind divided; part of him watched the door, the proximity of the Troopers, assessed its size and weight, tried to predict the effort he'd have to put in to counter the first push as they went to open it. The other part felt for the girl. He cleared his thoughts the way his Master had taught him, letting the words form sharply in his mind and filling them with conviction. Then he pushed them, pressed them out toward that youthful and brilliantly alert presence, completely uncertain if she was even capable of 'hearing' him, even if he succeeded in getting the message beyond his own head.

Hide if you can. The Troopers were gathered in formation around the door, blasters readied. Run if I say!

As the troopers reached the door the front door opened, and a short female figure entered the room. She was dressed with a black robe covering her from head to ankles, and her boots reached up to her calves. Dressed in a black shirt, and black pants, she walked as if she owned the world, and nothing could cause her harm. She walked up to the barkeep who was occupied with the situation in the cantina. She whispered something to the barkeep and he whispered back to her. After handing him some credits the woman turned and walked back out.

Isis was busy pulling at the grating blocking the ventilation shaft when a man's voice suddenly intruded on her thoughts. She nearly jumped three feet in the air and immediately spun around thinking she would see someone there. When there was no one she immediately thought she had imagined it but the the voice came to her again. "What the hell is that," she demanded, "Who's there?!"

There's no time, just do as I say, the voice told her as if he were reading her thoughts. Isis looked around frantically for a hiding spot and found an old chest propped up against one side of the wall. She hurried over to it then climbed inside, pulling the lid shut behind her. It was some time later when she heard someone banging on the door and shouts from outside.

That stupid barman sold me out, she thought angrily to herself. Obviously the man didn't care enough about her father's legacy to help her out of a bind. Surely her punishment for getting caught wouldn't be quite severe but given her father's relationship with the Empire who know what the outcome of that court case would be. She did sort of accidentally incite a riot although she didn't really have the intention to.

There came more banging and shouting from the door. Apparently the stormtroopers were having a hard time getting in, though she wasn't sure why. Okay, so now I'm in a box. Now what the hell am I supposed to do?

Tusserk was only barely aware of the brief appearance of the woman in black; he had far too much to concentrate on to pay any heed to someone not posing an immediate threat.

A sharp spike in the level of alertness he sensed from the girl was his reward; he could only guess that his message had reached her, and he hoped that he didn't cause her so much alarm that she wouldn't be able to bring herself to follow his direction.

The grunts and murmurs throughout the cantina grew louder in a rippling wave, and it was quite apparent that there was considerable amusement to be had at the squad of Troopers held at bay by a perfectly ordinary door. "Have you tried the key?" One particularly cheeky patron called out, but when one of the Stormtroopers spun about face with his blaster cocked, everyone over at that half of the bar was staring thoughtfully into their drinks.

Tusserk continued his careful, determined shuffle toward the back room, all the while maintaining that delicate balance of pressure on the door, pushing against the exertion of the Stormtroopers who had now each had a go with a solid kick. Soon it wouldn't matter if he was holding the door in place... much more of that treatment and it would be splinters on the floor. All he needed was to get close enough, though. Close enough to be able to see inside as it opened, close enough to act in the girls defence should he need to. A few more paces and he was there... and Tusserk couldn't help himself but release pressure on the door at the exact moment the squad leader gave it a hefty shoulder slam.

Keep down! Tusserk sent the thought out to the girl, hoping that she had indeed managed to find herself some cover. It was all about buying time. And in the few seconds of commotion that accompanied the lead Stormtrooper barrelling into the room and executing a not particularly graceful landing, Tusserk had enough time to give what he could see of the room a quick visual scan... and spotted the very same piece of grating, left slightly ajar by Isis' original movements. Drawing a deep breath, the Jedi drew on the Force once more, just for a moment. I'm not going to be able to stick around here for much longer, even if this DOES work, he thought to himself as he nudged the grate just enough to let it clank against the metal rim from which it had been pulled as it settled. Hopefully the noise would be enough to draw the attention of at least one of the Troopers... and give them the idea that the girl had indeed gotten out that way. The option was always there to just plain plant the suggestion straight into their minds, but Tusserk hoped he wouldn't have to go there. He found 'mind tricks' exceptionally distasteful.

When the banging finally stopped Isis waited breathlessly as the four stormtroopers entered the room. When they didn't immediately check the chest she was hiding in she thought she might be safe, then she heard a sound. The stormtroopers had heard it too, she could hear their footsteps shuffle wildly for a moment then one of them spoke over their filtered speakers.

"She's in the vent! You three head around back and make sure there isn't a way out."

"Yes, Sir," the troopers replied and Isis could hear their footsteps leaving the room. That left just the one and she carefully lifted the lid just enough so that she could see.

The trooper's attention was focused entirely on the ventilation shaft and Isis saw this as her opportunity. She threw the lid open then launched herself from the chest, sprinting for the doorway. She could hear the startled shout of the trooper behind her and then someone had caught her by the collar of her vest. In a panic she wormed her way out of the garment then fled the cantina out onto the street. She made it three steps from the door when she heard more shouts from behind, the sounds of the three troopers approaching from an alleyway and a muffled gun shot that struck her in the back. Her body immediately went limp and she fell onto the ground. Her mind screamed at her to keep moving but her muscles felt like jelly and she couldn't muster the strength to move.

My father is going to kill me, was all she could think about as the four stormtroopers surrounded her...

Tusserk gritted his teeth and stepped deftly to one side as the girl burst out of the room, giving her a clear run to the front door. Not that he could hold her too terribly to fault for not following the direction of a strange voice in her head to the letter, but still! And then the Trooper came running, and Tusserk took the opportunity to focus on his blaster as it passed clearly through his line of sight. A twitch of his fingers drained all the energy from the weapon, and a satisfied smile curled across his reptilian snout. Two down.

But they were hardly in the clear. Grateful that his part in the events thus far had not yet been noticed, by the Stormtroopers at the very least, Tusserk strode swiftly back toward the front doors, his mind racing. He had no interest in harming the Stormtroopers... not yet, anyway. He knew well enough that the low ranking white jobs of the Imperial Army were, by and large, ordinary men trying to do a good job. For all he knew, this girl had in fact done something worthy of a good smack about the ears from the local law enforcers... but Tusserk's feelings told him otherwise. There was something about this girl that was holding his attention. He was not willing to just let them take her and have that be the end of it. So what did he know? She was young, probably still living with her parents-- yes, a father of some significance, Tusserk figured, recalling her initial hurried words with the barman. So they possibly already knew who she was and where she lived. Acting too rashly now might just make things worse for her and her family...

Tusserk froze as he exited the Thirsty Nerf, seeing the girl stunned on the ground and surrounded by the four Troopers. Overthinking and indecision. He was painfully aware of his flaws, and that he would probably always struggle with them. But he could not... would not act impulsively. Lonar would be laughing at him, were he here. Toaster would probably already be in there, weapons drawn and limbs whirling. But what would my Master have done?? Tusserk screwed his eyes shut, cleared his thoughts, and made his choice.

A dark, furry shadow slipped through the cantina doors and sidled up beside the Trandoshan, rumbling a soft question.

"No, Huurghalla," Tusserk whispered, watching as two of the Troopers knelt to lift the girl off the ground. All his senses were honed keenly on the five humans, and he didn't want to miss a word that passed between them. You can talk freely. He didn't like pushing the suggestion into their minds, it was something he doubted he'd ever be comfortable with. But his Master had insisted that he not completely ignore it as an option. There is no need to use your bucket comms.

The wookiee beside him rumbled again. Tusserk's snout dipped in a nod. "For now, we'll follow them. Hopefully they're a chatty bunch. If we find out there's anything bigger going on than a few Troopers telling off a naughty kid-" Tusserk had to smirk at that. He was barely a few years into adulthood, himself. "That's when we act."

"Did you realize that this girl had a huge bounty on her head?" Briggs was looking down at a datapad.

"Nope, doesn't matter to us, we're turning her over to Lord Vader, he should know what to do with her."

Suddenly one of the troopers dropped to the ground. "What in the.." is all the next got out before he also dropped to the ground. The Trooper carrying the girl, dropped her, taking out his blaster rifle and started to look around for where the blaster bolts were comming from. Then with two more shots, the remaining two troopers fell to the ground lifeless.

Tusserk's eyes widened as the Stormtroopers began to converse. Taking the girl into official Imperial custody? He still didn't know what her deal was... had no idea what the Troopers were after her for... but he knew he couldn't let that happen. The Force was speaking to him, clear as day, and though he was exceptionally cautious about the way he followed its whim, he trusted that in this situation, getting the girl away would be the right thing to do.

But whatever plans he was beginning to formulate were vanquished at the zing of the first blaster bolt.

Tusserk's reaction was instantaneous; in less than a blink his best saber was in his hand, bright yellow and humming. "Get the girl!" he ordered Huurghalla, before throwing himself forward in a surge of motion to place himself between the fallen Troopers... and whoever it was that was firing. They were a brilliant shot, that much was certain, and for a moment he pictured Veshan Hardouin, a duros who traveled with the squad for a time who was similarly brilliant with his sniper rifle, as the current culprit. For a moment there was relative silence, during which Tusserk was dimly aware of his wookiee companion gently lifting the stunned girl in his great hairy arms.

Eyes narrowed and senses keened, he took a cautious step backwards, feeling out with the Force to try and pinpoint the attacker's location.

Pssshhhew!

Tusserk reacted before he was even consciously aware of the fact that another shot had been fired; he lifted his saber and expertly deflected the bolt that would have otherwise struck him right in the temple. This helped him get a fix on the location of the shooter, and he positioned himself precisely in the way of any incoming fire that might threaten the girl or Huurghalla... though it certainly did seem that there was no intention to see the girl wiped out. "C'mon, let's get out of here," he urged the wookiee, pacing steadily backwards, eyes searching every possible vantage point. "I'll cover you, just move!" As if to make his point, he blocked a second shot.

The Wookiee had made good time getting Isis to safety in spite of her meek struggles. The feeling was just starting to return to her limbs and when she felt like she could finally mouth a word she shouted. "Wait, stop! Put me down!"

The Wookiee ignored her and kept running, only slowing his pace once he felt they were out of range of any immediate danger. "I said stop," Isis continued, her struggles getting stronger by the moment. Finally the Wookiee gently set her on the ground.

"What the hell is going on," she demanded, "Who are you and why are people shooting at us?"

Sure she incited a riot in the middle of town square by throwing a rock at a stormtrooper but she didn't think someone would want to kill her for that. She hadn't really done anything worthy of being killed for other than protesting the closing of the factory on the edge of town. Just what exactly was going on?

Huurghalla lifted his shoulders in a shrug, and you wouldn't have to be fluent in Shyriiwook to get the meaning in his growled response; 'Don't ask me! I haven't got a clue!' He didn't really seem to have any sense of personal space, hovering smotheringly close to the girl and looking ready to grab a hold of her in an instant if she looked as though she was planning to make a dash for it. As much as his protective stance was directed at the young human, however, his gaze was fixed quite intently on the Trandoshan retreating steadily toward them.

Tusserk was moving backwards, stepping lightly but maintaining a defensive posture, his lightsaber humming gently in front if him. When he came close enough to be in easy earshot he spoke, but maintained a constant scrutiny of the rooftops in the direction from which the sniper shots came. "Is there somewhere safe we can take you?" He did not speak in the gutteral, rasping Dosh that most of his species used; in fact, his speech was quite refined, and anyone familiar with Alderaanians would recognise his accent in a heartbeat. Isis, however, would be more likely to recognise his as the voice she heard in the back room of the Thirsty Nerf. "A back way, if possible, that not many people are likely to use. The less who see you with me..." he glanced swiftly around himself, then de-ignited his saber, but did not fasten it back onto his belt. "The better." He frowned a little as he said this, then turned his large yellow eyes toward the girl. "But I would like to speak with you."

Some place to hide with a back way? Like she was some kind of criminal mastermind? "Look, I don't have a place to hide so just take me home," she told them, "I live in Coronet. My dad isn't there right now so it'll be okay if you stay for a bit."

She didn't really feel the need to tell them why her dad wasn't there. That, after all, was private information and she didn't trust either of these two enough to divulge all her secrets.

Tusserk grinned despite himself. "You might not say that so readily when you see the rest of my companions."

His manner was still cautious, however, particularly evidenced by his constantly roving gaze and frequent glances over his shoulder. "Do you have your own transport? I can accommodate you, if need be. Either way, I'd rather not let you out of sight for the time being, not with someone out there still after you."

The trip to Tusserk's 'transport' was quite the non-event, with no further sign of the mysterious sniper nor any other obstacles getting in the way. The Trandoshan maintained a fair level of caution nonetheless, all the way out beyond the outskirts of the town, to a quiet area of gently rolling hills and the occasional copse of thick shrubbery and low growing trees. Here, Tusserk motioned to pause, and he took a moment to press outward with the Force, searching for life signs, and when he was satisfied he nodded the small group forward again.

Tucked neatly out of obvious sight was an old, somewhat dinged up and by the look of it, custom modified Gallofree orbital service shuttle, plain slate grey and with the words 'Gejjen's Wagon' painted on the side in loose, but neat script. The ship itself was certainly nothing special, but those gathered around it were... well. A little out of the ordinary.

First and most obvious, due to her large size, was a sleek, glossy-scaled Varactyl, with a stunning set of blue and purple plumes crowning her head. She looked up brightly the moment Tusserk came into view, and moved up to greet him fondly, clattering her beak and nudging him gently. He grinned with obvious fondness of his own and rubbed along the top of her head. "Take it easy, girl, I wasn't gone that long!" Throwing a glance toward Isis, Tusserk pushed the great reptile gently backwards. "This is Ora. She should leave you be, so long as you don't give her reason to fret. She can get a little protective, but she's a good girl, really. And this..."

Tusserk stepped away, and motioned to a young Camaasi, who was standing quietly and respectfully a few paces away. "...is Eccy." The Camaasi was very quiet and very calm, and didn't appear surprised in the slightest that Tusserk and Huurghalla had returned with company. He wore a set of comfortable looking, deep green robes that matched the colour, if not the style, of Tusserk's outer coat, and a wide, conical hat that appeared to be woven out of straw. Eccy dipped his head in a polite, silent nod, and then glanced over toward a third, hulking figure waiting in the shadow of the ship.

"Come on, Frank. She's going to have to see you sooner or later."

The figure appeared hesitant, but finally stepped out into plain view, and though he kept his gaze low and his posture humble, there wasn't a thing about his physical appearance that didn't scream 'monster!!'. Tusserk watched Isis carefully to gauge her reaction to Frank; everyone responded differently to him, though he was getting used to some of the more violently adverse reactions.

At first glance, Frank was simply a huge and hopelessly wrong looking creature. But a longer look would make the terrible truth more apparent; he was not just a creature, he was bits and pieces of many... many creatures, stitched together into a horrifying whole. He stood upright, on a pair of impressively large and powerful looking insectoid legs that easily supported his broad, thickly furred body. The body bore two sets of arms; a chitinous pair tucked neatly against his chest, not unlike the front limbs of a Yam'rii, and then a pair of thickly muscled, shaggy-haired arms that looked like they belonged to a Wookiee. His face... his head was an impossible conglomeration of the features of Gran, Wiphid, Gotal, Ithorian and who could say what else... and was adorned with a pair of head-tails, so long and in so many colours that they must have been stitched together from the Lekku of at least half a dozen individual Twi'leks. He wore nothing but a belt and a simple loin cloth, hanging from which was the broad hilt of a great lightsaber. As terrible as he looked, however, his expression was pure and simple; he just looked sad.